


(no one could steer me right, but mama tried.)

by softly (alexenglish)



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bad Boy Zayn, Homophobic Language, M/M, Trope Subversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 15:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11626050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/softly
Summary: You aren’t really a good person, but god damn, you make bad look awesome.





	(no one could steer me right, but mama tried.)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunaeobscura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaeobscura/gifts).



> [a softer world project](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/asofterworld)

 

Zayn always comes in on Wednesday afternoons.

Niall knows Zayn’s mum is off work and fetches his sisters from school, so Zayn doesn’t have to walk them home like he does most days. Which means he goes to art club on Wednesdays. Which means he ducks into the shop Wednesday afternoons for an ice cream while Niall is working.

Usually one scoop, different every time.

He’s late.

Well not… late. But there’s a time frame. A time frame during which Niall mentally prepares himself to talk to Zayn so he doesn’t stutter, or say something ridiculous, or forget to speak altogether because he’s too busy staring at Zayn’s eyelashes.

It’s past that time, now. Just a couple minutes, but it’s enough that Niall’s disappointed. Genuinely disappointed, and coming off that strange sort of adrenaline rush that he associates with thinking about Zayn. Crushes are a bit exhausting that way.

He’s got one eye on the clock whilst he wipes down the counters, pouting a bit. The shop’s empty, though, so it’s not like there’s anyone there to witness it.

At a quarter past, the bell over the door goes just as Niall’s belatedly adding the flavor of the day to their Instagram page. Cotton candy swirl with bubble gum pieces, it seems absolutely revolting. The children love it.

It’s Zayn, and Niall can’t bring himself to feel silly for the way his heart jumps when he realizes, he’s just thrilled. It lasts all of about three seconds, then Niall sees Zayn’s split lip. It’s swollen, mouth shockingly red, a big scab already started on the left. There’s a pink smear of blood on his chin.

Zayn’s eyes meet Niall’s for a moment, but he walks right past the counter into the restroom. Probably to clean up. That’s why he was late then, another fight. Hopefully off school grounds, so he doesn’t get suspended again.

Niall’s heart pounds as he waits. And waits.

It takes a couple minutes for Zayn to come back out, but when he does his face is clean. There’s still that scab where his lip’s busted, but there’s no blood.

“Alright?” Niall asks, sounding worried. He flushes at how obvious he is.

“Sure,” Zayn says, shrugging. His hair is pulled back in a top knot, but there’s a loose strand hanging by his temple. Niall has this stupid, ridiculous urge to reach over the counter and brush it off Zayn’s face, but he doesn’t.

Zayn looks at the ice cream case pointedly. “What’s that flavor of the day taste like?”

“Wouldn’t know, mate,” Niall says. “Looks terrible, like. I can’t eat that much sugar.”

Zayn stares at him. “You work in an ice cream shop.”

“‘S my mum’s,” Niall says. “I’ve been working here since I was like, six.”

“I know,” Zayn says, but he doesn’t offer an explanation and Niall’s too blindsided by that to ask for one. “Let me try it, then.”

Niall fumbles with a sample spoon and gets as big of a scoop as he can on it before holding it out to Zayn. There’s a smirk on Zayn’s lips that makes Niall flush deeper, and Niall looks away so he doesn’t watch Zayn’s mouth as he tries the ice cream.

“That’s fuckin’ good,” Zayn says, making a little surprised noise that sounds like a moan. Niall keeps his eyes on the ice cream buckets. “I’ll have a scoop, please.”

“‘Course,” Niall says, grabbing a cone without asking.

“What if I wanted a cup?” Zayn asks, as Niall stuffs the sugar cone full of cotton candy swirl with bubble gum pieces. Enough that it’s technically more than a single scoop, but Zayn’s got a busted lip. It’s earned.

“You don’t,” Niall says, without thinking about it. Zayn’s eyebrows jump up. “I just mean, like, I’m here every week. You don’t ask for a cup.”

“I don’t,” Zayn agrees, giving Niall a curious look, but he doesn’t say anything else.

The blush on Niall’s cheeks doesn’t let up until a full 20 minutes after Zayn’s left the shop.

 

 

Zayn’s at school during free period, so Niall supposes he didn’t get suspended. The skin around his lip is all red and irritated, even from a distance. Niall wants to go up to him, ask him if he feels better, see if he ate the whole cone or had a sugar overload and had to toss it.

He doesn’t speak to Zayn outside the shop, though. Doesn’t usually look his way this much either, but Niall figures one day won’t hurt, since he’s concerned and all. Zayn’s distracted by Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles arguing about something, fierce and gesticulating wildly as Zayn watches them in amusement.

Walking over to talk would be strange, he reminds himself. He knows all of them, but it’s not something he does, not something that happens. He only crosses paths with Tommo out on the football pitch, with Harry in English, and Zayn at the shop. That’s it.

When free period’s up, Niall looks over one more time and finds Zayn looking back.

 

 

“Can’t you do something about them smoking?” Niall’s mum asks, poking her head into the back where Niall’s doing inventory. He looks up from the books and frowns. “Zayn and Lewis, darling, both of them always on skateboards outside here.”

“Mum,” Niall groans.

“It’s a family friendly shop,” his mum says, with a tut. “I can’t have nicotine clouds and skid marks on my sidewalk.”

“Alright, I’ll say something,” Niall says, plastering on a smile. She grins back at him, when she’s out in the front again, he huffs and rolls his eyes.

There are butterflies in his stomach already, knowing Zayn’s out there. Knowing Zayn’s out there and he’s going to have to speak to Zayn. Ask him to move, or curb his smoke habit, or whatever.

The two of them are actually around the corner of the building when Niall makes it upfront, tricking between the ice cream shop and the tiny thrift store that smells like mothballs. He can’t even smell the smoke until he’s off the curb.

Louis notices him first and skates over, riding by to fist bump Niall before stopping and flipping his board up. “‘Sup Nialler,” he says, watching Niall lazily. He smells like cigarettes, but his eyes are half shut, unmistakably stoned off his arse. “Are we causing a disturbance?”

“Actually, ya,” Niall says, making a face. “Mum’s worried about the smoke deterring customers.”

Louis hums. “‘Course she is.” The smile on his face is perfectly appeasing. Niall wants to remind Louis that he’s not the one who needs placating, but Zayn skates up and Niall forgets words.

Zayn’s all shimmery with sweat. A bit at his hairline, down his neck and collar. He doesn’t drip sweat, he just glistens prettily. The vest he’s wearing used to be a t-shirt, Niall reckons, but the sleeves are torn off, so deeply Niall can see the tattoos on Zayn’s side when he shifts, the bumps of his ribs and the ridge of his hipbone. It’s hard to think when Zayn’s around looking like _that_.

They look at each other for a moment. Zayn’s lip is better. It’s been nearly a week and all that’s left is a scab. A scab he keeps nudging with the pink tip of his tongue before he licks his lips and leaves it be.

Niall needs to stop staring.

“We’re being menaces,” Louis says to Zayn. Luckily he seems oblivious. Zayn’s eyes go to the shop, then back to Niall, then he shrugs.

“Alright,” he shrugs. “Family establishment and all that.”

“Soz,” Niall fidgets. For kicking them out, for implying that they’re troublemakers when they haven’t done anything. It’s kind of the way it is with Zayn. Between the shaved head and fistfights, graffiting and instances of underage drinking, nearly every mum except Louis’ thinks he’s bad news.

Including Niall's own.

It’d be the same way with Louis if he wasn’t the star football player, he’s just as bad, but people don’t pay attention to every bad thing he does the same way they do with Zayn.

“‘S the way it is, innit?” Zayn asks, but it's not dismissive towards Niall, just in general.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Niall says hurriedly. “Mum’s out on Sunday, if you want to swing by and pick up some ice cream. On me, for like, the trouble.”

“S’no trouble,” Zayn says, frowning. There’s that curious look on his face again, and Niall flushes all over... again.

“What, no,” Louis says, pushing at Zayn’s shoulder. He glances between Niall and Zayn suspiciously before clapping Niall on the shoulder. “It’s loads of trouble. I’m holding you to that ice cream.”

 

 

It’s only Friday night when Niall sees Zayn again. He’s nearly closed up, chairs up off the floor, front all mopped up. He’s counting the drawer when the bell goes. “We’re closed, mate,” Niall says, without looking up. It’s five ‘til.

“Sorry, I just…” It’s Zayn. Niall writes down his total and finally pays attention. Zayn’s hovering in the doorway, massive bruise on his face.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Niall asks, stomach sinking. He rounds the counter and hurries to the front so he can tug Zayn into the shop fully and lock the door. He whirls and holds Zayn’s face in his hands, looking.

The skin next to Zayn’s eye is swollen, making his eye droop a bit, hot when Niall runs his thumb over it as lightly as he can. That heavy feeling in his gut doesn’t let up even though there isn’t much damage besides that.

Zayn’s staring at Niall intensely and it takes a moment for Niall to realize that he’s stood way too close, _holding Zayn’s face_. He takes a step back and lets his arms fall to his sides.

Maybe Zayn thinks Niall's natural complexion is cherry red. Hopefully he does, so he doesn’t know exactly how fierce Niall's blush always is around him. So much that Niall gets kind of light headed when it happens, like all the blood in his body is rushing around.

Christ.

“C’mere,” Niall says, grabbing Zayn’s wrist to pull him into the back. This is the first time he’s really touched Zayn, he reckons. It feels like his heart is trying to escape out of his chest so it can hide in the freezer.

He pushes Zayn into a stool set up in the back and makes a an ice pack with cling wrap, grabbing a towel in case it’s too cold. He shoves it at Zayn worriedly, watches the way Zayn’s shoulders sag when he presses it to his skin.

“Are you alright?” Niall asks, after a beat of silence in which Niall’s staring at Zayn stare at the floor.

“You should see the other guy,” Zayn says, finally looking up. He rolls his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You came here,” Niall points out. Not home, not to Louis’ or Harry’s or, hell, any of the other dozens of people Zayn knows in the area. No, Zayn came to the ice cream shop.

“Knew there’d be something cold on hand,” Zayn says, tipping the bundle of ice with a cheeky grin.

Alright, fair.

It’s not his business, but Niall’s curious anyway, so he asks. “Was it the same people as last time?”

Zayn shrugs. “We had to run last time, a cop spotted us. Guess they figured we had unfinished business.” Zayn winces as he adjusts the ice, covering more of his eye.

“Does he really look worse?” Niall asks, chewing at his bottom lip. Zayn laughs, genuinely.

“Yeah, I think I broke his nose,” Zayn says, eyes bright with delight. For someone who just confessed to fucking up someone’s face, he’s dead charming.

“What the hell is he picking a fight for anyway?” Niall asks, trying to be casual about it. God, he’s curious, so damn curious. Zayn gets in fights a lot. At school, yeah, but mostly fights with people from his old school, the school he got kicked out of.

“Nah,” Zayn replies. A complete non answer. Niall doesn’t pout at him, but it’s close enough.

“C’mon, we’re friends,” he says. Whether or not it’s actually true remains to be seen, but Niall wants it to be, so. Self fulfillment or somethin’.

Zayn laughs again, nose scrunching up as he tongue presses to the back of his teeth. For the first time, Niall’s chest actually _aches_ from how beautiful Zayn is. Oh god.

“You’re not allowed to be my friend,” Zayn says, sobering up. He takes the ice off his face and flexes the hand that was holding it. His fingers are a bit pale from the cold.

“Why’s that?” Niall asks, handing him the towel.

“Cheers.” Zayn wraps the ice pack, but doesn’t put it back on his face. He looks at Niall very seriously, eyes dark underneath his lashes. The side of his face is going to be nasty swollen tomorrow. “‘Cause I’m a bad kid, aren’t I? Always getting into trouble. Bad influence, like.”

“You’re not,” Niall protests. Zayn stares at him. “You get in some trouble, but I reckon there’s a reason for that. You’re no worse than Tommo, but Tommo’s like, white and Christian or whatever so no one gives a shit.”

Zayn smiles at that, something small and private. “Nah, I’m mean,” he says. “Filthy mouth, bunch of tattoos. Get in too many fights.”

It feels like Zayn’s goading him. Niall rolls with it. “I’ve seen you.” Might as well dig this hole nice and deep so it’s comfortable. He’s being so obvious. “Like with Louis’ siblings and your sisters. You’re amazing with kids, sweet. Most people aren’t sweet to kids. You can’t be mean if you’re sweet to kids.”

“I’m going nowhere,” Zayn says. All the amusement’s gone from his voice, it sounds like he’s actually challenging Niall. And Niall wonders if there’s a mental checklist he keeps. Shit people say to him. “Total dead ender, that’s me.”

“You’re smart,” Niall says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Zayn’s still staring at him. “You’re in advanced courses already. Harry said that you’ve set up some college for summer.”

“I’m a total poof,” Zayn says sharply. “I broke that kid’s nose because he called me a faggot, ‘cause he knows I am one.”

Niall feels his eyes go tight and hot thinking about someone saying that to Zayn’s face, but he blinks the feeling away and tilts his chin up stubbornly. “Yeah, well, me too.”

Zayn stills and Niall can feel his knees wobbling with the confession. Shit, he’s never said that out loud before. Much less to someone’s face.

With all the false bravado he can muster, Niall picks up Zayn’s hand and guides it along with the ice pack back to the bruise. He gives the back of Zayn’s hand a friendly tap.

“Done feeling sorry for yourself yet?” he asks softly, and that makes Zayn laugh again.

 

All the windows are dark when Niall finally gets home. Zayn leaves him at the gate, looking awkward as anything, but Niall reckons that’s just Zayn.

“You’re not any of those things,” Niall says, before he loses his nerve. “That’s not you.”

“What am I then?” Zayn asks. There’s enough light on the street to see the unhappy twist of his mouth.

What. Not who.

 _Brave._ Niall wants to say. _Genuine, passionate, everything unexpected in one boy. Lovely beyond belief._

“Gentle,” Niall decides.

Zayn’s eyes go wide and confused, and it’s stupid. Stupid that everyone thinks so poorly of him, that they don’t bother getting to know _Zayn_ before they decide who he is and what he’s good for. It’s stupid and hurtful and Niall has no idea what to do, so he steps closer and cups Zayn’s face like he did in the shop, and kisses him -- soft and sweet and achingly tender, chest fizzing like champagne, and just hopes that maybe Zayn understands what he means by all of it.

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/post/163478515437/no-one-could-steer-me-right-but-mama-tried)


End file.
